


Clint Barton Sings The Blues

by AusKitty



Series: BAMF Dumbasses in Love [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Leverage, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Freeform, M/M, canon? dont know her!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AusKitty/pseuds/AusKitty
Summary: Clint likes what he hearsEliot wants what he seesBAMF Dumbasses in love?  yeah, I guess you could say that.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker, Clint Barton/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Series: BAMF Dumbasses in Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173161
Kudos: 6





	1. What its like

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea hit me out of nowhere- Clint is in a bar and he hears a sexy southern guy singing and he decided that he is gonna take that singer home with him... Eliot Spencer is singing at a tiny bar in the depths of Bed-Stuy when he spots a striking figure at the bar. He decides that he wants to take the broad shoulders home with him and sings his showstopper...
> 
> For those who may not know, Christian Kane, who plays Eliot in Leverage is an AMAZING singer, and Jeremy Renner (MCU Hawkeye) also has a great set of pipes... I can just see them wrapped around each other, trying to woo each other with song. Also, on a side note- I know MCU Clint isn't canonically deaf, but I like the idea of “Imperfect makes them Perfect” so THIS CLINT IS PARTIALLY DEAF IN THIS FIC. 
> 
> Sadly because my brain is a madhouse, while writing the first chapter of this story I got ideas for offshoot stories from the same song, updates will be sporadic until I get the plot bunnies corralled.

Clint sat at the bar watching the guitarist on the tiny corner stage, his worn jeans stretched over delicious thighs beneath a beaten acoustic guitar, methodically tensing to the beat of the song he was singing. The man on the single stool under the spotlight had a soulful southern drawl that was refreshing in the busy bustle of New York. Pausing briefly to swallow a few mouthfuls of water from the bottle by his feet, the singer shifted and made eye contact with the archer. Clint raised his beer bottle in salute before slowly swallowing the amber liquid.

Clint had a keen appreciation for the finer things in life, after all his best friend was an ex-KGB assassin with the greatest taste in haute couture and fine dining, but he could also acknowledge the homier side of his tastes, not that there was anything homely about the singer. Keen eyes, clocking all the exits, tracking the most likely areas for trouble all the while watching Clint at the bar, seemingly relaxed despite the light shining down on him. Mid brown hair pulled back in a half up do, the soft under layers falling to his shoulders with a gentle wave. And those shoulders, Clint would like to see them in the flesh, he had no doubt that the singer had a solid understanding of physiology and could utilize all those sleek muscles hidden beneath the flannel shirt. Yes, Clint could honestly see himself enjoying the rest of his night with this guy, whomever he was, provided of course that he was genuinely interested and not just flirting from the stage. 

“Last song of the night folks, I thought I might share a little something from Everlast's album Whitey Ford Sings the Blues.” His fingers flick over the strings, plucking out a delicate tune before coming back stronger, his foot tapping along to keep time. A gentle sway into the guitar and Eliot was lost in the song. 

_“We've all seen a man at the liquor store beggin' for your change  
The hair on his face is dirty, dread-locked, and full of mange  
He asks a man for what he could spare, with shame in his eyes  
"Get a job you fucking slob, " is all he replies  
God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes  
'Cause then you really might know what it's like to sing the blues” _

With his eyes half lidded Eliot wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before launching into the chorus, body rocking with purpose, fingers tapping the pickguard between lines. The song taking him away to a different time, before he met Nate, Sophie and the rest of the Leverage Inc. crew, a time when he was still a simple man with simple tastes and simple desires, long before his life took the turns that brought him to their door. Nowadays he was a complex ball of anxiety, paranoia, PTSD and shitty coping mechanisms. 

He floated through the second verse and chorus before opening his eyes, again making contact with that good looking blonde at the bar. Yep, simpler times, same kind of desires though. God he could just imagine kissing the quirk of a smile of that guys face, teasing him with his tongue until he begged. Swallowing the breathy little mewls that he would undoubtedly make. He knew the type well, hell he WAS the type. The blonde was sipping from his beer again, a hint of pink tongue darting out the corner of his mouth to catch a stray droplet and Eliot was hooked. 

With his eyes pinned on the guy Eliot made a more thoughtful face for the third verse, watching every flicker of emotion on the guys face. His lips tilting when the blonde nodded acknowledgement at the lines about honest men and the down side of up. Yes, Eliot could definitely stand to get closer to this stranger.

_“I've seen a rich man beg I've seen a good man sin  
I've seen a tough man cry  
I've seen a loser win and a sad man grin  
I heard an honest man lie  
I've seen the good side of bad and the downside of up  
And everything between  
I licked the silver spoon drank from the golden cup  
And smoked the finest green  
I stroked the fattest dimes at least a couple of times  
Before I broke their heart  
You know where it ends, yo, it usually depends on where you start” _

Clint knew, deep in his gut, he knew this guy got it. He understood him on some base level that even those closest to him would rarely see. Nodding along to the melody Clint found his gut tightening and his loins stirring. The velvet of his voice sliding into all those long neglected crannies of his soul, wrapping the archer in a delicious web of half remembered embrace. 

Adjusting discreetly was going to be hard if this kept up, so Clint swiveled his hips, bringing himself around solidly face on to the bar. Sure he could still see the singer in his peripheral vision, but the adjustment cost him some of the clarity of his busted up hearing. 

_I knew this kid named Max who used to get fat stacks out on the corner with drugs  
He liked to hang out late he liked to get shit-faced and keep the pace with thugs  
Until late one night there was a big gun fight and max lost his head  
He pulled out his chrome .45, talked some shit, and wound up dead  
Now his wife and his kids are caught in the midst of all of this pain  
You know it comes that way at least that's what they say when you play the game  
God forbid you ever had to wake up to hear the news  
'Cause then you really might know what it's like to have to lose _

_Then you really might know what it's like_  
Then you really might know what it's like  
Then you really might know what it's like to have to lose 

Yep, Clint thought as the singer's voice drifted off on the last word. He knows. It stirred a longing in him, part desire for those talented fingers on his skin, partially a need to trail his own calloused fingers over soft skin and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Maybe nibble that ear a little if he's into that sort of thing. Clint caught the bartenders eye and ordered another drink for himself and for whatever the singer ordered that night to be added to his tab. 

Tracking the singer from the stage to the bar was easy, until some clearly inebriated blonde waif threw herself into his arms and a tall black man wrapped his arms around the both of them from behind, resting his chin on the singer's shoulder. _Better luck next time Barton, He's clearly a taken man._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... they are dumbasses... its slow going because I want to find just the right songs.

He's at the bar again the next week, this time sitting in a corner booth instead of on the stage. Eliot couldn't be angry at Parker and Alec for their accidental cock-blocking the week before, but he sure as hell wasn't letting them tag along this time. He just hoped that the sharp eyed blonde would show his pretty face again. Open mic night always seemed to draw a crowd, and he could almost taste the anticipation as the first few acts droned on. Eliot wasn't here for the job, he wasn't here to set up an alibi or scope a target, tonight he was here in this dingy bar in Bed-Stuy with a hope in his heart and a wish in his pocket. 

The disembodied voice of the MC cuts into Eliot's thoughts, introducing the next singer. “Next up we have our old friend Clint, make him welcome everybody.” 

Eliot flicks his gaze to the stage and doesn't see anyone on it, the microphone stand empty in its center. A gentle melody from a piano floats through the air and a voice pitched just loud enough to be caught by the microphone by its side wraps him up like syrup thick enough to drown in.

_Step one, you say, "We need to talk"  
He walks, you say, "Sit down. It's just a talk"  
He smiles politely back at you  
You stare politely right on through  
Some sort of window to your right  
As he goes left and you stay right  
Between the lines of fear and blame  
You begin to wonder why you came _

Eliot is drawn in by the languid drawl and the rippling fingers along the piano's keys. It was his blonde, the one with shoulders like a construction worker. He was here, and he could SING! Eliot let the lyrics flow over and around him as the blonde lost himself to the music he made.

_where did I go wrong? I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life _

Clint had a shit day. Possibly the worst he has had since hearing the news of his friends death several months before. He had worked closely with many AGENTS in his time as a SHIELD operative, and still more as an Avenger, but the days when he heard of the loss of a colleague always brought back the memories of Phil. He knew it wasn't his fault that Phil died, despite the compulsion placed on him by Loki and the Tesseract, but it didn't stop him from blaming himself.

The song always soothed him, the aged keys of the piano a good friend in times of sadness. At least this wasn't a spiralling depression this time, the feeling of eyes boring into his back reminding him of where he was. His favourite bar, open mic night, just him and the song and a handful of half drunk locals who had no clue as to who he really was.

_Let him know that you know best  
'Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defense  
Without granting innocence  
Lay down a list of what is wrong  
The things you've told him all along  
Pray to God, he hears you  
And I pray to God, he hears you _

And that one guy, the southerner with the whiskey voice and thighs to sigh over. The flannel clad center of all his wet dreams for the past week. Clint licks his lips nervously, its been a while since he had this kind of magnetic attraction to anyone. Phil would have told him to go for it, to chase his dreams and just remember to take his head along with him. Phil would have never let him get away with backing down in the face of uncertainty. He didn't want to think about Phil right now, despite how much he missed him.

_As he begins to raise his voice  
You lower yours and grant him one last choice  
Drive until you lose the road  
Or break with the ones you've followed  
He will do one of two things  
He will admit to everything  
Or he'll say he's just not the same  
And you'll begin to wonder why you came _

Eliot stood and made his way towards the corner of the bar closest to the piano, his eyes fixed on the man sitting on the bench in front of it. Watching as his eyes slide half way closed, the tension in his shoulders slowly abating as he pours every ounce of his soul into the words. The rasp of sadness and the cracking of heartbreak with every chorus Eliot watches as the man drowns in his own emotions and sweeps everyone along for the ride.

_Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life_

_Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life_

_How to save a life_

_How to save a life_

His fingers still as the last note falls from his lips, his shoulders slumping forward for a breathless moment until a deep inhalation and a bright smile are plastered over his face once again. The crowd applauds, loudly but with genuine appreciation for the performance, a few wolf whistles from some unseen corner have the hairs on Eliot's neck prickling. It wasn't usual for him to feel this possessive over someone he had never actually met. 

Before he can motion to the bartender for another beer, the blonde is straddling the stool beside him, a half smile gracing his lips. Eliot sees behind the façade and sits, quietly nodding to his new companion. 

“Interesting choice for an open mic night, most stick with the Karaoke Classics or strike out with an original composition.” Eliot passes a freshly opened bottle of beer to Clint, never making eye contact with the man. “Makes me think back to times when I wanted out, takes a strong person to admit they need something from someone, 'specially if they don't know that someone from Adam.” 

Clint takes a long pull from the bottle and rests it back on the bar, fingers picking idly at the label. The condensation beading and trickling down the sides lubricating his fingertips and softening his calluses.

“Never said I wanted anything from anyone, but some company would be nice if you're offering” Clint drained the rest of the beer in a long steady stream before getting the bartenders attention and having the bottle replaced with a fresh one. 

“Names Eliot.” Eliot tilted his bottle neck towards the fresh one the archer had in hand.

“Clint” came the quiet reply as the two men tapped the necks together and drank in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hate me... the plot bunnies are rioting.  
> Second chapter coming soon, I hope :)
> 
> Lyrics from Everlast- What its Like


End file.
